May I: Icing On the Cake

It was a good whole thirty minutes before Cal walked into the conference room.

She had seen him walk past earlier, but he hadn’t stopped there, but more to the side, just across from her office. She realized how curious he looked, and all she could do was shake her head and focus back on the task at hand.

When he walked in, he looked like he had just broken from his thoughts, but she couldn’t help what he was up to. Usually he was focused and ready to dive into a case, but today there was something different as he looked at her.

And he sure tried not to. He tried his hardest to glance at her when he thought she didn’t notice. When he sat beside her at the table to start the briefing, they shared an exchange; worry. But he didn’t say anything.  She tried not to let the thought get to her, but when Cal was silent, he was up to something.

“We’ll start with interviewing the person in charge.”  He finally spoke up. “In the mean time we need to find anything that might tell us what we need to know.”

Ria nodded with a bit of confusion. “Okay. We’ll get right on that.” She signaled to Eli and they left the room, which left Gil and Cal alone.

 He studied her for a moment, and then pushed his chair in with one hand; like he was dunking a basketball into the hoop. “You, are with me.”

She sighed, following his lead. “How long are you going to do this?” He looked back at her as they continued to walk down the hall to the front door.

“I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Which is?”

“How long we’re going to pretend you’re not going to be sleeping on your couch.”

Gil dismissed it quickly with a short smile, her hand waving back and forth as they walked. Oh he was good. That and he was reading her thoughts again. “Cal…”

Looking at her, his expression softened. “Sorry. That does seem  to come a bit naturally, doesn’t it?”

She lifted her head up in a laugh. “Cute.  Now you’re just trying to be charming.”

Nodding, he inquired. “Is it working?” Cal was doing that adorable grin with his mouth open a bit; the corners lifting up to the slightest degree.

---

Everything seemed normal.

She joked lightly with him about sleeping on her couch, but he hadn’t really expected her to answer him. There was still hurt in her words. That it was too soon for them to be talking about this.

But it wasn’t normal.

He had sat in front of his computer for a good half an hour, just going over the office footage from last night. He finally got to the part where she had walked out of her office early this morning.

That was what worried him.

Usually it took awhile for things to sink in. He had even lain in bed for quite awhile thinking about it. Yes, he knew the expressions and could read people pretty well, especially Gillian. Even though he wasn’t supposed to, he kept his thoughts somewhat to himself, so he wasn’t always crossing the line. But this time, this time it was different.

She meant everything to him, and she was hurt. Kept everything inside, but didn’t ever really want to talk about it. He had his way of dealing with his, but she didn’t. He knew what it was like to be disappointed, to lose what he had, and she had lost trust in that.

Sure she trusted him to an extent that she didn’t for anyone else. But there was too much inside for her not to feel trapped, and this latest fiasco that happened last night might just be the icing on the cake.

----

It was around nine A.M., when Cal and Gillian had reached the house of Frank and Georgia Cole. They walked through the vine-winded arches, and stood at a double-oak door with half-oval windows.

Those doors opened just moments after ringing the doorbell once. “Mrs. Cole.” A lady probably in her late fifties with blonde curly hair specked with white appeared with a phone to her ear.

“Looks like I’m going to have to call you back.” She addressed the person she was talking to on the phone. She pressed the end button blue and dropped her hand to her side. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Cal Lightman, and my colleague, Gillian Foster.”

“So you’re the one who left that message on my machine.” She nodded towards Cal. For the first time since arriving, they saw the half-empty glass of wine in her hand.

“Don’t mind my drinking—come in.” Opening the door to let them pass through, she swallowed the rest of her drink hastily, and closed the door behind them. “I was just having an afternoon drink to calm my nerves. My husband isn’t usually gone this long.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Since yesterday morning. He likes to hike up the trail behind our house--every morning.” Georgia led them into an open living room. “Please, sit.” She motioned to the brown leather couch, and turned to refill her glass of wine in the kitchen.

“Mrs. Cole—“

“Please, call me Georgia. I feel like an old lady when I’m called Mrs. Cole.”

Gillian nodded at her request. “It sounds like your husband knows the trail well then.”

She gazed at her with piercing, blue eyes. “Yes, well he should.” Sitting down in a light red chair, she gestured for them to sit down as well. “We’ve lived her for a little over five years.”

“And Brent Jackson knew the trail just as well as your husband, didn’t he. . .Mrs. Cole?” Cal tilted his head to the side in interest, focusing more on her changed expression. Just at the mention of Brent Jackson, her eyes had flicked with anger. Even her fists had clenched and unclenched to the slightest degree.

“What about him? He was my husband’s business partner.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong. Brent, also having been your husband’s best friend; not just a business partner.”

“Yeah, they’ve been best friends from high school. Are you implying that my husband had something to do with his murder?”

Cal gave her an innocent look. “I’m not trying to imply anything, because your facial expressions and body language just gave me everything that I needed to know.” With that, he stood up, pursed his lips.”We’ll see ourselves out, yeah?” He nodded at Gillian. She got the message because she stood and began following him to the door.

“What are you thinking?” She inquired, after he had closed the door to the house. He was already bounding down the steps and rounding the corner, towards the back of the house where the trail began.

It didn’t take him long to answer her as he paced along the trail. “I’m thinking that our loving wife isn’t saying where her husband really is.”

“But you don’t think he has anything to do with this.” She stated, more than questioning. Wincing slightly as she pushed her tired body forward—glad that she was pulling behind him, instead of walking right beside him like she usually did whenever they were working on any particular case. 

He lessened the pace as he walked, momentarily glancing back at her. “No. I think the husband knows of the murder. There was mud on the shoes she was wearing, which means she was either digging in the mud or walking the trail alongside her husband.”

She tipped her head up in recognition, and they continued walking through the grassy lawn, up towards a trail that wound around to a cave like dwelling. It was hard to see what was actually down there, that Cal squinted. What he saw looked like one big white blob.

“Call the paramedics, would you love? It seems like we’ve found the loving husband.” With that he hopped into the cave, while Gillian reached into her purse and dialed for an ambulance.

----

They were two different people, with a lot of chemistry between them.  He had Emily every single day of his life, and in her heart she had Sophie.

He sat in her office later that day; one picture frame remained from the many that had sat there on her desk when she had been married to Alec. In curiosity, he turned the frame around to see Gillian holding a beautiful little girl.  He saw the same woman sitting behind her desk today, having a conversation with Reynolds about the case they were working on.

“Thanks, I’ll tell him.” Gillian spoke up, her eyes flickered up to him and then she hung up the phone.

She took in a deep breath.“According to Reynolds, our Frank Cole is not in very good shape. His injuries range from being beaten, a broken leg and a gash to the head.”

“But he’s awake, right?” She gave a nod. “Then let’s go see what he can tell us.”

---

Frank Cole.

Brown hair. Brown eyes. Has been married to Georgia Quinn Cole for almost thirteen years; business partner to Brent Jackson for the past five years.

“Mr. Cole, I’m Cal Lightman.” He introduced after knocking briefly on his hospital room door. “My partner, Gillian Foster.”

“Frank. With that, I assume you’re here to ask me questions about Brent. He was my partner and friend for the past five years. What do you want to know?”  

“Yeah…we are actually.” Cal offered, pulling up two seats near the bed; one was for him, the other for Gillian. “Tell me, what were you thinking when you were walking around in the hills yesterday morning?”

“I’d tell you that I was worried about a friend.” Sighing, Frank went on. “About a year ago, I found this old dirt trail and had gone on it several times. I took Brent up there once or twice when we decided to get away more from our work.”

“Does your wife know about this trail?”

“I told her about it once. She thought it was great that we were spending more than just business time together, why? What does my wife have anything to do with Brent’s disappearance?”

“Because when we were talking with your wife earlier today, she expressed anger whenever we mentioned your name and total disgust when we mentioned Brent’s.”

Frank looked away, groaning. “We’ve had our share of arguments as a couple, trust me. But if you think she had anything to do with Brent’s disappearance. They had some disagreements as well, but nothing that could make her want to hurt him. ”

“Nothing but genuine sincerity.” Cal offered freely to no one in particular, upon reading Frank’s expression.

---

She wished that she could make time move slower.

Since they had gotten back from the hospital and talked to Frank, she paid particular attention to the lack of sun that was shining behind the blinds in her office, even though they were closed. She sat with the chair turned, eyes closed, just thinking about everything.

One thing that was the most on her mind was that it was mid afternoon now, and even in the safety of her office, she dreaded it being evening once more. Because when she closed her eyes, nothing could prepare her—or anybody else in that matter, for what she saw in her dreams.